Hazardous!
by wynterhawk
Summary: AU: Arthur has an unusual occupation and Eames just can't seem to keep his focus on the matter at hand. He'd much rather pay attention to Arthur.


**Friday Night**

It had been such a delicious dinner and they'd enjoyed the warm summer's night air out on the terrace of the restaurant. Eames shifted to one side and draped his arm comfortably across the back of the wrought iron chair. Sitting across from him, that gorgeous young man who had been giving him the eye for months at the sports club, spooned another dripping mound of ice cream into his mouth and smiled sinfully at Eames.

Oh, he liked this Arthur very much and things had been going smashingly. Eames most definitely wanted to see him again and from the signals Arthur had been putting out all night, having a second date was definitely in the cards. Those wicked brown eyes and side-glances were nothing but encouraging.

A soft teasing breeze kicked up. Eames automatically reached to capture the paper napkin that threatened to make a run for it, and marveled at how he'd gotten so lucky. Arthur flicked his tongue across his index finger to spot clean a droplet of chocolate and then scooped up more ice cream. The silence was comfortable between them and looking back at Eames, Arthur tapped the cold spoon thoughtfully against his bottom lip.

"So, what do you do for a living?" Eames asked, easing back into the conversation that had been so animated during the course of dinner, but then had quieted considerably while they plowed through dessert.

Arthur's smile widened just a little and he glanced at the couple sitting at the table a few feet behind them.

"I kill people for a living."

Eames paused a second and did a mental inventory of the situation.

He'd only had two beers so far and hadn't had any history of metal illness or flights of fancy or hearing loss. And, it didn't help that the answer had been framed and delivered so nonchalantly.

Arthur was still smiling that soft wistful smile when Eames came back to himself.

Eames scoffed. He put the half-empty bottle on the table next to his empty dessert bowl and leaned forward just a little. Maybe he had heard him wrong.

"Pardon?"

The spoon slid into Arthur's luscious mouth for just a brief moment and Eames fought hard not to be distracted by those smooth pale lips slipping over the broad silver back of the spoon.

"I said that I kill people. You asked me what I did."

Eames sat back and let out a long whistling breath. He stared at Arthur who continued to eat his ice cream, and tried to figure out if Arthur was playing at some elaborate joke, or if he was actually serious. Either way, Eames wasn't sure if he was having a good time anymore.

Eames opened his mouth but Arthur spoke first.

"Oh, don't get me wrong," he said, his charming smile deepening the dimples in his cheek.

The corners of his cinnamon brown eyes crinkled and his eyes curved into delightful half-moons.

"I don't just go up to strangers on the street and do the deed. I've got a boss just like everyone, I get clients and I get the job done."

"Wh-…"

Eames just couldn't find his voice and his chest felt tight as if a searing hot iron ring had suddenly constricted about his lungs, growing hotter and tighter with each breath he took.

"But, I'll tell you one thing. I hate when it gets messy… but sometimes that's what the client wants. I'd rather do it neat, quick and painless."

Arthur made little chopping motions with his hands that Eames found strangely and maddeningly endearing. He looked up into Arthur's face again.

"Less clean up, less planning and I'm happier all the way round. But… like I said, I've got a boss and clients, and I have to do what they're paying for. I'm not my own man."

The ice cream slathered spoon slid between those lips again and Eames stared transfixed.

"You can't be serious!" Eames blurted.

The woman sitting at the table beside them looked up and Eames lowered his voice.

"You can't be. C'mon. Let's not play this shit. I thought we were having a good night."

Arthur's neat dark brows rose and pinched together, deepening the furrows between them. He stared at the half empty bowl of ice cream and carefully replaced the spoon, stabbing it into the melting ball of chocolate that was just beginning to lose shape in the night's heat. He sighed and licked at his bottom lip.

"I was having a good night. A great night, in fact, Eames. I was having a great night. But…I can't lie about what I do."

Eames shook his head feeling so at a loss that all he could do was smile in disbelief.

"I can't," he said, crumpling up the napkin he still held in his hand. "I can't believe it. I just can't. This is… you're being a nutter."

A patient and understanding smile tugged at the corner of Arthur's mouth. He took note that Eames was still there, still sitting in the chair across from him and hadn't run off to possibly ring the police and have him arrested. He was still there and Arthur couldn't be happier.

"Maybe," Arthur said, picking up the spoon and diving into the ice cream again.

"Maybe!" Eames asked tossing the napkin down into the slippery remnants of his own ice cream. He had devoured it like a starving man, barely taking the time to savor it.

Arthur shrugged and scraped the spoon against the bottom of the bowl.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Arthur asked. "Paris has got a great nightlife, or so I'm told. Let's check it out."

Eames drooped. Quite literally he sagged in his chair and stared at Arthur. He had truly lost his mind, this one.

Laughing, Eames shook his head, surprised that he hadn't said "no" to Arthur yet. In fact, he realized that he hadn't gotten up to leave the possibly crazed maniac to his ice cream.

And then he was speaking before he could stop himself.

"No. It's getting late. Let me take you home."

Arthur smiled and reached for his wallet. Eames waved it away and paid the total, leaving enough money for a tip. He ushered Arthur before him and the two of them walked through the restaurant and out onto the street. Eames had parked quite a ways away and they had to walk a few blocks to get to his car. It would give him enough time to question Arthur more and to get to the bottom of his obvious joke.

"So, is that why you agreed to go out with me tonight?" Eames asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "Am I on your list?"

Shit, he thought miserably looking down at himself. He was wearing his best trousers and he really didn't want to get blood on them.

Arthur laughed and it was a deliciously pleasant sound that warmed Eames inside. Arthur punched him on the shoulder.

"Nooo," he chuckled. "I wouldn't do that. Sit and eat and drink with you and then …. noooo… that's cruel. Besides, I like you way too much."

"Oh, thanks," Eames muttered feeling inordinately grateful that it wasn't going to be his last night on Earth.

They reached his car sooner than Eames had expected and after unlocking it, they both slid into it. Eames started the car and pulled out into the street with unnecessary speed, leaving tire marks on the road.

Arthur was quiet for a moment, watching the man drive with disturbing intensity.

"You're nervous," he said and saw Eames's two-handed grip on the steering wheel tighten even more.

"I'm not," he ground out.

"You are. Hey, listen. Just let me out here, and I'll get home on my own."

Eames considered the proposal, but didn't stop the car.

"I'll drive you."

Arthur nodded and then caught sight of a man walking his dog along the pavement.

"Ok, then um…can you slow down here for a minute?"

Arthur bent down low and rummaged about in the rucksack he'd brought with him and had stored in the foot well of the passenger seat. Eames did as he was told, slowing down obediently, and suddenly, Arthur shot upright again. Leaning over Eames, Arthur braced one hand against Eames' hard muscled thigh, aimed out of the open window with what looked like a pistol crossbow, and fired.

Eames whipped his head about just in time to see the man who had been out walking his dog, slump over into the bushes growing wild along the front gardens of the row-houses!

"Fucking hell!"Eames screamed in a panic.

Arthur watched the man for a moment, and satisfied with his results, Arthur focused on Eames. Their faces were mere inches apart and he could feel the sweet, intoxicating heat rising from Eames' body.

"Mmmm… you smell so good," he murmured, taking a long deep breath at Eames' neck before dropping back into his seat.

But Eames was still staring at the man's feet that stuck comically up from the bushes, just not believing what he'd seen. Fuck! He'd just seen Arthur kill a man! He'd seen him shoot him with an arrow right through the throat and he'd seen the man fall!

Fuck, oh fuck!

He was an accessory to the murder and now the police would be after him! Jesus, all he wanted to do was screw that young hot boy from the sports club, not face a life sentence in the nick!

Arthur glanced around them. It didn't seem as if the neighbors had been alerted, but he didn't want to take any chances. He had to urge Eames into immediate action.

"Go, go, go!" Arthur ordered, banging on the front console.

Eames stomped on the accelerator. He must have torn through at least three intersections, barely missing the red lights before his brain caught up and he forced himself to slow the car.

"Are you crazy!" he bellowed finally driving the speed limit along the dark residential street.

"I've been looking for that bastard for so long!" Arthur cried triumphantly. "Get the news on that one. He molested his two daughters and almost beat his wife to death. I was about to do that one for free, but I can't say no to cash."

"His kids paid you?" Eames asked, feeling hot and out of breath.

"Oh, yes. Ages eight and twelve… the cutest things."

"How do you know that they were telling the truth?"

"My bosses investigate every claim down to the letter. Court cases, arrest records…we don't just do this shit haphazardly, man."

Arthur made himself comfortable in the seat again, stretched out his longs legs and folded his hands in his lap.

"So, the nightlife then?" Arthur asked quietly.

Eames squeezed the fine leather of the steering wheel and ground his teeth together. This bloke was going to be the fucking death of him.

"Your place is up there, mate. I'm dropping you off."

Arthur made a disappointed noise and folded his arms.

"It's what I do for a living, isn't it. That's why you're uptight."

Eames laughed, sounding almost hysterical. That was such an understatement.

"What you do is wrong, Arthur. I don't see how you can't understand that."

"Well… what do you do for a living, then?"

"I'm a mechanic. I make sure that people don't fucking kill themselves or each other when they're driving around. I make it safe."

"I make it safe too, man. You should be thanking me for cleaning up around here. You don't know what I've seen people do, the disgusting things I've seen happen. The worst of the worst, Eames. I clean it up so that you don't get touched by it; so that you can go about your happy..." Arthur floundered about for the most approproate word, "... mechanical day. That's me. I do that."

A million questions and bitter protests swirled in his brain. Arthur sounded so calm and rational that it hurt his head. Eames slowed the car and finally stopped it outside a block of flats. Arthur glanced out of the window and recognizing his home, he grabbed his duffel with one hand and reached for the door handle with the other. He opened the door and put one foot out before pausing and turning around to look at Eames one last time. He knew that if he let this one go, he wouldn't get that chance again, so he had to try.

"Um… do you wanna come up for some tea?"

Eames turned his burning face away and studied the other block of flats on the other side of the street.

Unfuckingbelievable!

Arthur was unbelievable. He was gorgeous, smart and apparently very talented at what he did and if it didn't beat all, his justification of his profession actually made sense. It made sense in a dark and twisted way, but still, there was sense to be found. Sense or no sense, Eames wasn't sure that he should be alone with a maniac. He had no idea what horrors might await him in Arthur's flat. He had to decline the invitation. He had to say "no".

But, once again, Eames found himself acting before his addled brain kicked into gear. He unbuckled his safety belt and cut the ignition. With a laugh borne of pure pleasure, Arthur got out of the car and slammed shut the door.

He waited for Eames to come around the front end of the ride before saying, "I've got some tarts that we can heat up in the cooker."

Arthur wiggled his brows suggestively and much to his surprise, Eames laughed and draped an arm about Arthur's shoulders.

"Then, maybe, we can do a little heating up of our own," continued Arthur.

"Best thing you've said all night," Eames agreed.

They took the lift up to his floor and found his flat just down the hall. Unlocking the door, he went inside and felt along the wall for the light switch. Before he could turn it on, Eames had him by the shoulders and had shoved him hard against the wall. A soft noise of lust and surprise escaped him and surrendering to the hot demanding kiss, Arthur slid his arms about Eames's neck.

Eames kissed him hard, possessively, loving how responsive Arthur was. Arthur sighed and pushed himself into Eames' embrace, bracing his hands against the man's chest and jostling him until he'd gained the upper hand. Arthur used his weight to press Eames' against the wall, and caged him between his hands. Drawing back, Arthur delighted in the sound of Eames' breath coming hot and fast between them. He swallowed and grinned knowingly. Eames was definitely not one to play around and Arthur liked that.

"C'mon," he murmured, sweeping in to suck and bite at Eames' succulent lips. "I wanna have some fun."

And with that, he left him standing there, gaping after him as Arthur walked down the narrow hallway to his bedroom. Eames' tripped after him, deciding that the evening was definitely looking up and besides, the tarts could wait.


End file.
